


Cut Out Your Heart (Put A Bullet In His Mind)

by SveaShan



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Jazz Singer Charles, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Erik, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-11-08 22:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SveaShan/pseuds/SveaShan
Summary: New York City, 1927. Erik Lehnsherr, known and feared by the whispering crowds as Magneto, gathers his mob in search for the monsters of his past. Young jazz singer Charles Xavier has to cope with both his telepathic powers and his torn life.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tumblr post (not mine).](http://ittakun.tumblr.com/post/161276837777/20s-au-jazz-singercharles)
> 
> Apologies in advance if updating this will take time (you have been warned). Also, this is my first work for this pairing and this fandom, just so you know.

The streets of the city were flooded with the remnants of a heavy downpour from an hour before, and a few sparse drops of rain still fell from the pitch black sky. A man was making his way through the mist that hung very low, and through the chilling breeze of a weak but persistent wind. The conditions of the night seemed to have no effect on him at all. His hat and coat were soaking wet, but still neat and orderly. One gloved hand was placed in one of the coat’s pockets, the other was hanging at his side, seemingly ready to draw a weapon instantly.   
On his way he never looked back or around into the dark alleyways that he passed. It looked as though he knew what was going to happen tonight, as if he had control over a situation he wasn't even in yet. There was confidence in the way he held his head up high, his shoulders and back straight, as well as in his determined step.

He turned around a corner and slowed his pace only a fraction. Ahead of him lay the place he was heading to; a run-down gambling den, the sign above which read “The Modern Muses“ just barely visible due to the flickering light of a nearby street lamp. There was noise coming from the inside, but the man knew it was all faux, all part of an elaborate illusion only people like him were aware of.

The door opened before he could reach it, and the voices and the music grew louder before being cut off again when the door fell shut. A man came swaggering out onto the street, clearly very drunk, a content grin on his rough face. His pockets jingled with coins. 

“Good luck in there, fella,“ he slurred into the newcomer’s general direction when he spotted him, and started giggling uncontrollably. The man with the hat didn't answer, and waited until the drunk had vanished out of sight before he entered the den himself.

Thick smoke hung in the air, and a fire burning in an open-hearth fireplace in one of the corners filled the room a warmth that was only just on the brink of being enough to offer shelter from the clammy wetness outside. Around two dozen men were seated at tables with cards in their hands, drinks in front of them, and women at their sides. Howling laughter and the occasional scream of a gambler’s despair followed the man up to the bar. He sat down on one of the stools and waited for the beekeeper to turn her attention towards him.

As soon as she did, realization dawned on her face, tinged with an obvious shade of resentment, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“The usual?“

The man nodded, and she turned away from him to get his drink ready. After she had placed it in front of him with a little more force than was necessary, she flipped her long blonde hair back with one hand. She looked as if she was ready to put poison into his next drink if she was given the chance. 

He drank in silence, pointedly ignoring the beekeeper but keeping an eye on the rest of the people in the room. Some of them shot him curious looks, but nobody approached him, and after some time he got up and made his way to the back of the den. The door he was heading towards looked ordinary, but he knew that none of the other men in this place had walked through it tonight, nor would they ever do so. It led him into a small hallway followed by narrow stairs that ended on a landing lit only by two low burning candles. The man stopped on it and looked down the next hallway. There were four doors for him to choose from. He went straight for the second one on the left, the only one with a man standing in front of it. He noticed that none of the doors had metal handles. They had learned since the last time he was here.

The man with the hat walked up to the one guarding the door, who laid slightly fearful eyes on him.

“What do you want? Aren’t you one of them demons?”

“I arranged a meeting with your boss. Let me in.” His voice was both soft and raspy, and the last bits of a faint accent still shone through his speech. 

“My boss doesn’t make no deals with demons. Go back to hell where you belong.” 

After letting out a long sigh, the man in the hat felt for something in the inside of his coat. The other one gasped and reached for his gun.

But his hand didn’t get that far; it stopped in mid-air so suddenly that his breathing hitched, and his eyes shot from his hand to the other man’s face and back again.

“Nice ring you’re wearing. Really nice.” He twisted his hand, and willed the guard’s own to knock on the door behind him.

“Wh-what are y-you doing to me?” the man gasped, his face turning red from shock and panic. But before he could get an answer, his eyes turned into his head, and he collapsed onto the floor between the door and the man controlling him.

A voice then called out from behind the still closed door, asking the man to come in. He did, stepping over the unconscious body and pushing the wooden handle down.

The next room looked like it had once been a private library, but now most of the shelves were littered with weapons, safes, and tons and tons of files and folders. A large desk stood in the middle of everything, and seated behind it was a woman, her long blonde hair falling in one big wave over her shoulder. 

“Miss Hembert.”

“You remember me. Welcome.” She leaned back in her chair, and cocked her head to the side. “Was it really necessary, to show him what you can do?”

The man just shrugged, and replied, “I can kill him on my way out.”

“Oh, don’t bother with him. I’ll take care of it.” She pointed a finger at her head, and he flinched only slightly, causing her to laugh.

“I’m not gonna mess with your mind, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. Now, let’s get to business.” He took a step closer to her table. “I want your people out of the entire area around the Tesla building. This map shows you all the space I mean.” She caught the paper he was throwing with ease, smoothed it out and looked over it.

“You’ve got to be joking. You know damn well that all of this is worth more than the 100,000 dollars you’re offering!”

He sighed once more, and folded his hands in front of his body. 

“What else do you want? But remember not to ask for too much. You know how much leverage I have against you.” Then he glanced at the safes to his right. “And you know my powers.“

She had followed his eyes, and took a deep breath. There was no fear in her expression, and her voice remained steady. “I want your second district. It’s small, but it’ll do for my purposes.”

He considered her request for a moment. She continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“As you wish. It’s a shame though. That district was starting to grow on me.”

He could see that she was trying very hard to hide her disbelief. “Wait, you’re saying yes? How can I trust you just like that?”

Before she knew what was happening, he had crossed the distance between himself and her desk, their faces inches apart.

“You just do. You know that I can end your career with one word, one rumor fed to someone in your ranks that their boss might just be one of the demons they’re all so afraid of. So, do we have a deal then?“

She swallowed down her anger and her pride, and slowly, so slowly, reached into a drawer of her desk to retrieve a paper. He leaned back again, crossed his arms over his chest and let her fill out their contract. The moment he had looked it over and signed it, he was on his way to the door again. They were business partners now, but he saw no reason to celebrate that or stay longer than necessary.

Miss Hembert watched him go, and after a minute, got up to close the door to her office. The guard outside lay with his neck snapped, his empty eyes staring up at her.

The man didn't hear her curses, for he was already back in the cold embrace of the night, becoming one with the rain and the darkness once more.


	2. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my friend [Bianca](https://twitter.com/biancablizz) for beta-reading this chapter!

Charles Xavier hated Saturdays. He hated that the club opened at six already, hated that their customers always swarmed into the building in small groups as soon as Raven unlocked the door. Didn't they have better things to do than sit and drink and listen to him singing that early in the night? Well, at least the early ones usually left generous tips. 

He sighed heavily as he crossed the street, turned a corner and found himself close to the district of New York City everyone simply called Tesla. As far as he knew, nobody of that name had ever set foot into one of the buildings, but what did he know. He’d come to the city two years ago, but he still felt like a stranger. Like something unwanted, uninvited.

There were more people on the streets here today than usual, he noticed. He didn't bother looking into their minds to see if something out of the ordinary had happened; he had left his curiosity asleep in his apartment. People kept pushing into him, shoulders knocking into his own, and a feeling of unease started creeping into his thoughts. As always, growing emotions urged him to use his powers, but he pushed the idea of just peeking into someone else's head far, far away. What if he accidentally “talked“ to someone who knew him, someone who recognized his voice and decided reported him?

He remembered Moira’s concerned words.

_“Charles, I can only imagine how hard this is for you and Raven. But the raids against your kind have gotten harsher and have doubled in the last month alone.“_

As if she understood anything. He felt that she sometimes forgot that she was human. No need for her to alter her entire appearance every time she left her house, or to control her mind every second of the day. She had no idea what it felt like to exist in a society that saw you as nothing but a monster.

Charles suddenly stopped walking; a little girl was standing in the middle of the crowd, crying and looking around helplessly. He couldn't just walk past her, so before he really knew what he was doing, he concentrated on her mind only, finding his way around her thoughts easily. Then he tried to send soothing messages to her, without talking too loud as to not attract any unwanted attention. He could feel that it was helping, and when he had approached her she stopped crying and just sniffed a few times, looking up at him with big, curious eyes.

“Hey there,“ he smiled, crouching down beside her to get on eye level. “Did you lose your mama?“

She nodded, and he inhaled deeply, then let his mind wander until he found the voice of a woman, her thoughts filled with horrible terror and a mental image of the girl next to him. Charles was glad to see that she was already in sight, so he could pretend to have spotted her that way. He picked the girl up, steadying her on his hip, and pointed down the street. 

“Look, over there,“ he said, and the girl followed his finger at once. “Is that your mama?“ 

Her eyes lit up, and she started babbling something he couldn't make out, so he just made approving noises to signal her he was listening and carried her over to her mother.

“Oh my god, Eliza!“ she cried and ran the last few feet towards them. 

She burst into tears once she had reached Charles, and he put Eliza into her mother’s arms awkwardly, for the girl was clinging onto his neck with a surprising amount of strength. 

“I really can’t thank you enough, sir,“ the woman now sobbed, rocking her daughter back and forth in her arms, shaking Charles’ hand almost violently.

He smiled at her, genuinely at first, but then he thought about what her reaction would have been if she knew what he was. A small voice inside his head suggested that maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. She had her child back - maybe that would be enough for her, and she would not care a bit that someone like him had helped her and her daughter. He liked that idea. He liked it very much.

The woman thanked him again, then encouraged Eliza to say something as well, but she just stared at him, open-mouthed. He grinned at her, and finally she smiled back and waved him goodbye with one tiny hand.

They walked off into opposite directions, and Charles’ good mood only faltered when he finally spotted Raven outside the door of their workplace. It wasn't her that annoyed him, of course. In fact, he was relieved to see her smiling brightly at him. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy for her. First there had been a construction site at the building in which she had her apartment, then they’d discovered that something was wrong with the sewer system close by, and their clean water had been cut off.

Charles had come to her at once when she’d told him over the phone, helped her pack all necessary things and had given her a place to sleep in his own apartment. It had almost felt like the old days, back when she’d lived with him in his parents’ mansion in Westchester. They had been happy, not a care in the world. Until Charles’ mother had gotten married a second time. Until that man had found out what Raven truly was. 

When he had kicked her out, Charles hadn’t hesitated. Within two weeks he had found them each a place to live and had discovered the bar where they both started working, Raven as a waitress and Charles as a singer. It wasn't ideal; in fact, it was one of the two things keeping him from finally applying to Columbia University. His work and the fact that he had telepathic abilities. Or rather that he was a freak in everyone’s eyes. But he still had hope that he would make it there one day.

“You look like you’ve had five minutes of sleep in total,“ Raven now greeted him, and kissed his cheek.

He made a face, remembering having spent most of last night reading when he’d come home at two in the morning, about an hour after Raven herself. 

“Give or take,“ he replied, and managed an exhausted smile. “I’m not terribly late, am I?“

Raven shook her head, but still motioned her hand in the direction of the door.

“We should still get going. I reckon the first guests will be here in ten minutes or so, you know our usuals.“

He knew indeed. They could predict almost every night who would show up when and in which order, even without a little special help from Charles. But today he wasn't in the mood for their games. He felt a headache making its way through his skull, and he was already dreading the air they’d have in the club in a few hours. Smoke and booze mixed with the heavy scent of perfume, and none of the small windows would help get rid of it until the next morning.

Once they were inside he raised a hand to greet Hank, their barkeeper. 

“You alright Charles?“ the young man called, setting down a glass he’d been cleaning and grinning at him.

“You bet, McCoy. Hey, did you see all the people on the streets today? Did anything happen?“

Hank frowned, picked up another glass and started cleaning that one.

“I don't think so, no. But you’re right, there were an awful lot of people out there. Hope they're all coming here and leave their coins.“ He grinned mischievously, and Charles huffed a laugh.

He turned away from the bar, leaving Raven and Hank chatting, and went to the end of the room towards the piano. This was his space, the territory where he made all the decisions and where nobody ever dared to make suggestions or interrupt him when he was sitting at the piano.

Tonight's songs would include more modern numbers, most of them from last year. 1926 had been good for jazz, and the songs resonated with most of the crowd. 

Charles sat down on the stool and tried out a new song then, something he’d never performed before. The notes hung in the air, a little hesitant, and it took him a few minutes to get the key and melody right. He improvised with the lyrics for now - he knew he'd get them right later in the night. 

He was so invested in the new song that he didn't notice the first few people coming in, just as Raven had predicted. It was a small group, three men and two women, who sat down at a table in the middle of the room, laughing and talking animatedly. Charles left the barroom for a moment to warm up his voice and go over some of his notes, then he put down the coat he’d been wearing and straightened his suit jacket. 

When he came back he saw that Raven had already brought the guests their first drinks. They pointed him out as he made his way to the piano once more, and the women laughed excitedly. 

They watched him play a few notes without singing yet. He liked to start the night with a few combinations that weren't necessarily real songs, just arrangements he came up with spontaneously. When he felt the time was right he managed to make a smooth transition into the first song. His voice was still a little scratchy, but he didn't mind and just continued singing. He never looked at his listeners during the first few songs, and so he played without noticing who came and went.

Raven brought him a drink about an hour later, and it was only then that he realized how packed the room had become. Hank was busy serving the people sitting at the bar, and Raven was assisted in waiting tables by Angel, who was talking to a group of young women close to Charles’ stage.

He noticed the door opening, but didn't bother looking at the newcomers. Taking a sip from his glass he rearranged the sheets in front of him, then put his drink down and put his fingers back to the keys. 

It was time to try out the new song, he decided. The original was faster and more straightforward than the way he chose to play it. He took his time, testing out every note, dragging the beginning out longer, and gave the lyrics a dark sound which he found rather fitting. 

Just as he had reached the middle of the number, during an extended instrumental interval, he felt the headache from before coming back slowly but surely. He tried to ignore it, but the pain became more demanding, and threatened to distract him from what he was doing. He looked up and around the room, as if he could locate the source of his pain somehow. His eyes fixated on a figure sitting at the far end of the bar, no drink in front of him, his face turned towards Charles. They locked eyes for only a second, but it was enough for Charles to feel another jolt of pain in his head. 

Charles struggled to find the right keys after he had torn his eyes away from the man, and tried to finish the song quickly. He did, and it didn't sound particularly nice, but it would do. None of the guests would notice anyway.

He excused himself, and, ignoring Raven’s concerned look, went out into the backroom to calm himself down. His head felt as if he’d been hit with all the books he owned at the same time; nothing helped easing the pain, so he tried concentrating on the next piece he would play, tried remembering the notes. It worked, slowly, but after a moment or two he felt the aching ebb away. He waited a little longer, afraid of repercussions, but none came. 

Charles hardly dared looking into the direction where the man had been sitting, and just resumed his seat on the piano stool, drank something, and then started playing again. After a round of applause for his take on Irving Berlin’s _Blue Skies_ he looked up, but the man was gone, his seat now occupied by a woman in her early thirties. For some reason he didn't quite understand, Charles felt a sting of regret that he hadn’t looked into the stranger’s head to find out what it was about him that had caused him so much pain. He shoved that thought away, and just continued playing his set well into the night and early morning of the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this as much as the first chapter! Additional info this time: [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63dSIKkJ1RM) is the song Charles sings. I don't know if it counts as Jazz though to be honest. Also, the chapter titles will be the respective point of view each one is written from. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. Erik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was once more beta-read by [Bianca](https://twitter.com/biancablizz), thank you again!

The week after his visit to Miss Hembert had been one of the most stressful ones of Erik’s life. Giving up an entire district - a small one, but a district nonetheless - always came with mobilizing way too many things and people at once. At least he had gotten what he wanted. Tesla was his now, and with this part of the city he had control over two thirds of the machines responsible for New York City's electrical power supply. 

Obviously his new territory brought up questions from his people.

“What on Earth do you need Tesla for?“ was Azazel’s first question. He was pacing up and down the room Erik had declared his study when they had started occupying the three story building as their main house. It was less of a study, however, and looked more like a police station’s storage room. Hundreds and thousands of files were stacked neatly in shelves along the back wall; the right one was covered with papers, pictures and newspaper cuttings. A window on the third wall on the left was enclosed on both sides by two heavy iron safes.

Erik was sitting in the middle of it all, in his chair at his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and eyed Azazel, starting to feel annoyed with him.

“I told you that’s none of your concern until I decide that it is.”

“You say that every time you plan something big - but never involve me at all!” The younger man cried, throwing his hands up. “And then it goes wrong spectacularly, but guess what? I could have helped you succeed. But no, the great Magneto has to do everything on his own, doesn’t need no right hand.”

His tone managed to make Erik sneer and start tapping his foot irritably.

“You helping me directly in the field? I don’t think so, Azazel. With your powers, which I would not exactly describe as particularly subtle, you are the most useful when it comes to gaining intelligence. So you will continue to do so until I tell you otherwise.” 

Azazel stopped directly in front of Erik’s desk.

“Not subtle enough? You’re the one who always has to show off! I’ve had enough of playing your footboy! If you don’t start letting me in on what you’re doing, then -,”

“Verdammt, Azazel!” Erik shouted. “I will not be spoken to that way! Don’t you ever forget that I’m the one in charge here, and you will do as I say or you leave. Is that understood?”

He watched Azazel eye the safes alarmingly; they had begun to shake. 

“You really think you’re in charge? Then why does it look like he is controlling whatever you do, even though he’s not even here? Not even your boss?” He was now pointing at the wall covered in paper.

Erik’s voice was now filled with fake calm, something that made most people feel uneasy. Not Azazel, apparently.  
“If you don’t stop this rubbish you can leave right now.”

“Oh really now? Then who will collect your precious intelligence?” He walked over to the wall. “When was the last time you actually had a solid lead on anything connected to Shaw? You know how fast I could track him down. Faster than you. Faster than anyone.”

Erik exhaled slowly through his nose and asked himself why he still put up with Azazel. Sometimes he regretted the pity he had taken on the man back when they’d first met, about a year ago now. Azazel had made a living for himself by using his power of teleportation for all kinds of felony, from pickpocketing to assassinations even. But when he had attempted to take someone out whom Erik had been following for weeks, he had been able to convince him to join his group. 

_“Who are you? Are you going to report me and run off with the money?”_

_“You’ll find that you already know the answers to your questions.”_

_And after a quick movement of Erik’s hand, the man they’d been chasing dropped to the ground and lay there, motionless. A second later, a bloodstained silvery chain flew through the air; Erik caught it and put it back into his pocket._

_“You’re one of us,” Azazel breathed, his eyes showing just a tiny flicker of hope. “You’re Magneto.”_

Things had taken off from there. Azazel often found new people to join their ranks, and until now, his wages had kept him quiet and content. Erik started a debate in his mind, considering if he could really risk firing the man. Who knew if he would have the nerve to report him, or try and kill him in his sleep. No, he decided. Azazel had to stay, stay just a little longer.

Now it was Erik’s turn to throw a glance at the papers on the wall.

“Fine. I’ll involve you from now on. Minimally. And if you take one false step, I swear that you will regret it.”

Azazel’s crimson skin seemed to light up at the words. 

“Sure,” he huffed, trying to look indifferent even though there was obvious excitement in his eyes. “But hurry up with your grand scheming.”

Erik just stared at him until he got the hint, shrugged his shoulders and left the room. Then he got a bottle of whisky and a glass out of one of the drawers of his desk. He downed the first glass, poured himself another, and walked over to the wall dedicated to Shaw. The man stared down onto him about twenty times. He was mocking him even though they hadn’t been in the same room together for years. But that would change soon enough. 

Tesla was only the first step. He took a sip from his glass, then remembered that he still had to look for a place in the new district. The distance between this house and his latest acquisition was too great for business to run smoothly. He needed a place, a club or a theater with a back room large enough for an office. Azazel had found three possible houses, but Erik wanted to see for himself which was best for him. 

He placed his drink on his desk and pulled a small black book out of one of the pockets of his coat which hung next to the door. The addresses didn’t mean anything to him yet, but he knew his general way around Tesla. 

Azazel was gone when he left the house, stepping into a warm Saturday night. Maybe it was a good thing, to establish distance before Erik would reach out to him. He was going to keep that promise, even if it pained him to think about all the things that could go wrong as soon as a third party became involved in this. Sebastian Shaw was his mission, his responsibility to deal with. But not tonight. Not yet.

He waved at one of the streetcars and got in when it had pulled over. After giving the driver the address, he leaned back and watched the grey buildings pass by. While these monsters of concrete and metal repulsed many people who came to the city for the first time, he had only seen opportunities. A future for his powers. This city could be his battlefield and his fellow soldier if he needed it to be.

Right now it had to be his supplier and his retreat. 

None of the people who were roaming the streets at this hour looked at him twice as he got out of the automobile thirty minutes later. He looked around; Tesla seemed to be less anonymous than Manhattan somehow. The houses were mostly made out of red brick and every corner was lit by the warm light of an old street lamp. 

It didn’t take him long to find the club he was looking for. The sign above it simply read _Logan’s_ , and the entire exterior didn’t attract too much attention. An advantage already.

Erik followed a group of young women in silky dresses inside, the heavy scent of their perfume hitting him as he passed the threshold. The place was already crowded, no surprise for this time of night. It seemed as though it attracted all kinds of people - couples, loners hanging their heads over their tables, old, young, black, white. But none that looked suspicious, none that stood out more than the others. No one like him frequenting this club, apparently.

He took a seat at the bar, the man behind it nodding at him and then turning around to say something to one of the waitresses. Erik looked around once more and spotted a young man sitting at a piano in the back of the room. He didn’t get to take him in for longer than a few moments though; the barkeeper was now addressing him. 

“Evening, sir. What can I get you?” He had a kind face that was framed by slightly unruly curls of dark brown hair. 

“Martini, thank you.”

“One Martini, coming up.”

Erik waited until he had turned his attention away from him, then looked into the direction of the piano again. The player was about his age, a little younger maybe. He was playing something Erik didn’t recognize, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying it. The piece sounded cheerful, perfect for the atmosphere in the club. It ended in time with Erik’s drink arriving, and he busied himself with it instead of joining the crowd in applauding. He looked up into the pianist’s smiling but tired face, and grinned when he saw him glance a little sheepishly at a group of women in front of him. 

The Martini was good, good enough to tear his eyes away from the musician and focus on it. He noticed the room growing quieter while there was no music playing, as if the guests anticipated the next song and didn’t want to distract the artist. When the air became filled with the sound of the keys again, softer this time, he finished his drink and pushed the glass into the direction of the man behind the bar. 

Then he remembered why he was here in the first place. Business. But that could wait. The night was still young, and the music was mesmerizing. Erik closed his eyes and concentrated on the song; again, he didn’t recognize it. It reminded him of something though, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. He suddenly had to think about the piano his parents had owned, back in their tiny place in Düsseldorf. Neither of his parents could play, but they’d sometimes tried to to make him laugh. He opened his eyes again and pushed the memory back, far back into his mind. Concentrating on the song again now was difficult, but not impossible. The player’s face definitely helped.

When the piece reached an instrumental part, the man looked up, his expression one of slight irritation and discomfort. Erik caught his eye, and had only half managed to form a smile that showed his appreciation when the player scrunched up his face in pain and looked back at his sheets. Erik frowned, but then a thought came to him. What if he was like him? What if he had somehow noticed what Erik was? Something like that had to be possible, he was sure of it. If this club’s chances of becoming his new place of business in Tesla had been high before, they now rose even more. 

That was the moment that he got up to find that Logan fellow. He didn’t ask the barkeeper for the direction, waited until nobody was paying attention to him and just went through a door that said _Private_. He knocked, and a scruffy voice from the other side answered for him to come in.

The first thing he noticed was the thick layer of smoke in the office. He suppressed a cough and blinked a few times before spotting a man sitting behind a desk, his feet on top of it, a cigar in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“Can’t you read? This is a private room and I don’t remember ever hiring you,” the man growled, shooting him an intense stare, but Erik stood his ground.

“Logan?”, he asked.

“No, the name’s Sherlock Holmes. Welcome to London.”

Erik faked a laugh and took a step closer to the desk.

“I don’t expect you to know me, but I’d like to get to know you a bit. I have a simple request I want to talk to you about.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, looking bored and ready to throw him out any second.

When he didn’t say anything, Erik continued, “You see, I just came to the city and I’m looking for a place to temporarily move my office to. I’d pay you well and leave you alone outside of business hours, and -”.

He was interrupted when Logan suddenly threw a letter opener at him, leaving Erik no choice but to stop the thing in mid-air to avoid it hitting his chest. It hung between them for a moment, then he let it fall to the ground with a sneer.

“I knew it.” Logan grinned and leaned back in his chair, pulling his legs from the table. “You can tell me the real reason why you’re here, Magneto. Lying isn’t your strongest power, apparently.”

His tone reminded Erik of Azazel, and he resisted the urge of stabbing the man with his own letter opener.

“It wasn’t a complete lie. I want some of your rooms. For private purposes. I need a public place, I need coverage. Since you know who I am you know what I can do to you if you refuse.”

At that, Logan let out a barking laugh, and Erik gritted his teeth. Mocked again. 

“Boy, I’d like to see you try, honestly. Why the hell would I say yes?”

“Does the police know that you sell booze here?”

“Ask the officers that are in there right now.” He nodded towards the wall, behind which lay the main room. 

Now it was Erik’s turn to raise his brows. 

“So you have no problem with illegal activities? Huh, then I don’t see the problem of me using your place for some time.”

Logan put his cigar down into an ashtray, scratched his bearded chin, then looked at his hand before facing Erik again.

“Oh, I do see a problem.” Erik tried not to back away when he saw what happened next. Three bony claws grew from between the man’s knuckles, and Erik focused on the letter opener lying on the floor. 

“You see, boy, you can’t report me to the police for anything. Not the booze, not this,” he waved his hand a little, “not for any fucking thing. So you listen to me now, very carefully. Today might be your lucky day, because you can have a room upstairs actually.”  


Erik knew better than to be relieved just yet.

“In exchange for what?”

“Oh, a few things. Cash. Information. About what I’ll let you know. Maybe even a helping hand at the bar from time to time. You can turn the sheets for Charles.” He laughed again, and Erik felt his face heat up. 

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but before he could help himself, he nodded. Logan looked as surprised as he felt.

“Well then,” he sighed, and drew his claws back in. Erik stopped concentrating on the opener. “Why don’t you fuck off now and come back tomorrow at noon?”

“Sure. But I won’t be serving drinks here.” His expression must have looked comically sour, judging from the amusement in Logan’s eyes.

“The great Magneto in my club. Don’t you think I won’t be taking advantage of that some day. Now get out.”

Erik turned towards the door and opened it with a movement of his hand instead of grabbing the handle, for no other reason than that he could. He heard Logan snort behind him, but the sound was cut off when the door fell shut between them. 

He walked out of the club, but not before casting one last look at the piano player. Charles. The name suited him. Erik chuckled, shook his head at himself and left, making his way back to the house through the buzzing air of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, writing Erik's interaction with Logan was so much fun, I can't believe I didn't want to include Logan at first. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And sorry that it took longer than the other ones. I hope the length will make up for that a little!


	4. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd again by [Bianca](https://twitter.com/biancablizz), thank you!

This night would never end.  
That was what Charles told himself for hours after the stranger at the bar had disappeared, luckily taking the headache with him. But none of this meant that playing got any easier - he still had to concentrate more than ever on getting the notes right, even though he doubted that more than three people in the club could actually tell if he messed up.

Just as Hank had predicted, there were a lot more people coming into the place, ordering round after round, keeping Raven, Angel and Hank running around all night and Charles glued to the piano. He feared he’d run out of songs at some point, but somehow, he still knew a good number by heart - the rest he just improvised. It seemed to please his crowd, a fact which would ultimately please Logan. His boss dropped by the main room every now and then, got himself a drink and watched the people who left their money with him. He also looked out for his employees, in case anyone should try and cause trouble in the club.

Charles had lost all sense of time when he noticed the crowd slowly thinning out. It could have been two in the morning or seven the following evening for all he knew. Raven flashed him an encouraging smile as she passed the piano to collect empty glasses from the tables in the back of the room, and he actually managed to grin back. By the time he had finished his last song, Logan and Hank were showing a group of young men out the door - and kept telling them that no, they were not in Paris.

“Au revoir, mon - mon amour!” Charles heard one of the men slur into Hank’s general direction, who just laughed and waved them goodbye.

_Looks like you’ve got competition, Raven._

She wasn’t even facing him, but Charles could practically see the face she was making at his comment.

_Get out of my head, will you? How often do I have to tell you that?_

Charles just breathed out a small laugh and didn’t reply. He knew of course that Raven didn’t like it when he used his telepathy on her, but it was hard to resist sometimes. And after all, banter between siblings via thoughts was the best kind of banter. 

After all the customers had left, Logan pulled up a chair to one of the tables, sat down and waved at the four of them to join him. Angel smoothed out her dress before taking a place next to Raven, who put her head onto Angel’s shoulder. Hank and Charles chose places opposite each other.

“So, listen,” Logan said after clearing his throat. “I have news that will probably concern all of you. Hank, you saw the man in the grey coat earlier tonight? Tall, dark blond hair, looking a bit out of place here?”

Hank considered the description for a moment. “Oh, sure. He was sitting at the counter for a little while, but when I checked if he wanted another drink he’d just disappeared.”

“A ghost then, wasn’t he?” Raven joked, and she and Angel giggled.  
Charles on the other hand couldn’t have been less amused if he tried. A feeling of unease started spreading through his mind and body.

“Yes, a ghost that came to haunt me,” Logan interrupted the two girls sharply. “That ghost is going to be spending quite a lot of time here from now on. He will get the empty room upstairs, and I want none of you to annoy him or piss him off.”

Everyone except Charles nodded briefly.

“That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “He’s just going to waltz in and out of here when he feels like it? Who the hell even is this guy?”

Logan shot him a warning look. “This guy,” he said warningly, “is one of us. Only ten times more powerful, ruthless and cruel than you four combined.”

This caused Hank to stare at his boss in disbelief, Raven and Angel’s smiles to falter, and Charles to look up at the ceiling in an attempt to hide his annoyed expression. He had always known that sooner or later, Logan would drag someone dangerous into this place, into all of their lives. What did it matter that he was like them? If it was true what Logan was saying and this man was really that powerful, what good would it do any of them to have him around all the time? Charles would rather have a ticking bomb under their table. That they could at least shut down or throw out the last second. 

One glance back at Logan however told him that there would be no negotiations about this.

“Look at it this way: he will pay well, and maybe I can get you all higher wages.”

“Oh really? What does he do then - that he makes enough money to rent rooms here like he never does anything else?” Charles couldn’t keep the ice out of his voice.

Hank tried to ease the tension in the room, but to no avail. “I’m sure he’s simply a successful businessman, nothing to be -,”

“No,” Logan interrupted him. “No, I wouldn’t call him an ordinary businessman. In certain circles he is known as Magneto. Or rather in all circles. Nobody knows his real name.”

That was it. Charles shot up from his chair, causing it to fall to the floor with a loud thud that made Angel flinch. 

“Great!” he exclaimed, threw his hands up in the air and let them fall down to his sides again. “A gangster! That’s all I’ve missed ever since I started working here. Finally we’ll be facing dangers other people can only dream of!”

Raven tried to cut in, calm him down, but he ignored her.

“Logan, I always trusted you and your judgement. I really did. But you can’t be serious about this. I heard stories about this guy, stories filled with so much fear I almost thought that he was a monster who’d walked straight out of a fairy tale.”

He hadn’t meant to get this emotional over such an issue. But he couldn’t help it. Didn’t the others see what he meant? Hadn’t they heard at least a tiny rumour about this man?

“I understand your concerns, Charles. But I made my decision. He will come here tomorrow to get acquainted with everything around here. He won’t harm you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Maybe he won’t harm us now,” Angel murmured, looking at Raven with concerned eyes. “But if Charles is right I also have my doubts about him staying here.”

Raven grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “As long as we’re with Logan we’ll be fine. And if he dares only looking at you the wrong way I’ll show him where he’s at with us.”

They smiled at each other and Logan nodded his head towards them. Charles knew what he was aiming at without having to read his mind. 

Now it was Hank’s turn to address him. He eyed Charles cautiously, as if he was afraid he would snap at him next.

“Logan and Raven are right. You have to trust us, and you have to trust yourself. You’re the one who would know if he planned anything against us after all.”

Charles turned away from them and took a few steps towards the piano. They hadn’t convinced him entirely, not just yet, but he wanted to avoid their eyes filled with concern. Hank had a point; in case of an emergency, Charles would be able to simply reach into their guest’s mind and perhaps secure all of their safety. They needed him in this. If he walked away now he would probably never forgive himself. 

“Alright,” he said quietly, his back still facing them. “Alright. Let him come tomorrow. You all have a point. But don’t expect me to greet him with open arms.”

He heard Logan let out a small laugh. “I don’t, kid. Trust me.”

The others all got up from their chairs, and finally Charles turned back around. Raven was walking towards him, her bright eyes full of sympathy and understanding. 

“That’s it for tonight. We’ll meet here at noon again. Now I suggest you all go home and get some sleep.”

Raven put a hand on Charles’ arm and gently pulled him towards the door. 

“Come on,” she smiled. “Let’s go home.”

He nodded, feeling drained and tired and still a little angry. They all said their goodbyes, Logan disappeared into his office, leaving the other four to go their separate ways after exiting the club. Hank made sure that Angel got home safely, both of them waving at Charles and Raven before turning around a corner and disappearing out of their sight.

When they were alone and on their way Raven put her arm around his waist and leaned against him slightly.

_You had a point back in there. But so did Logan. You really need to trust your abilities, Charles._

_I know. But you don’t know what it’s like. I fear it will become too much one day. What if somebody like Magneto makes me see something that isn’t real? What if I mess up and one of you gets harmed?_

Raven looked straight ahead but he felt her hand put more pressure onto his side, comforting him.

_Then so be it. We’re not helpless, Charles. You know that. Now come on, I want to get home and sleep, sleep, sleep._

He smiled down at her and kissed her blonde hair. Yes, sleep sounded like a good idea. 

***

The next morning and its too bright rays of sunshine definitely came too early to suit Charles. He was awake but still hidden beneath his blankets when Raven started rapping at his bedroom door furiously.

“Get up! We need to get going.”

He just groaned in response and buried his face in his pillow.

“Remember our date with the mystery man Charles! I wouldn’t want to be late, judging by the description we got yesterday.”

Then he heard her steps retreat into the direction of the kitchen. Charles knew of course that he would have to get up eventually. Noon seemed to be so far away and he didn’t want to meet this guy anyways. He could live without the headaches he had gotten last night, could live without a mobster occupying rooms in the place where he worked. Magneto. He didn’t know much about him, only stories that crept through the city like ghouls used to in the ghostly tales of his childhood. It was said that he always worked alone, no family of killers to back him up - or hold him down, for that matter. Some people thought that made him weaker. Charles only guessed it meant Magneto had nothing to threaten him with. Nothing to lose. 

He shook his head and cursed Logan under his breath. This would cost them too much - maybe not his boss, but more vulnerable people like Angel or Raven. Or even himself. Sometimes he was convinced that Logan forgot that not all of them could heal as soon as they were wounded. But Charles could probably take Magneto on, make him do whatever he wanted. He hadn’t done that in a long time but that didn’t affect his confidence. He heard Raven again. Time to get up. 

***

The sun was standing high in the sky above them when Charles and Raven turned the corner into the street where the club was. Hank was already waiting for them, sitting in front of the door and smoking a cigarette. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. 

“Does anyone else suddenly feel like this might be a bad idea after all?” he asked them as soon as they had reached the club.

Charles had to force back a dirty laugh. “Suddenly? Sure Hank.”

This earned him a slap to the back of his head by Raven.

“Ignore him,” she sighed and sat down next to their barkeeper. He offered her the cigarette but she shook her head.

They didn’t talk much, just waited for Angel and when she finally arrived, stepped into the club. Logan had put a few tables and chairs together to imitate something that was supposed to look like a conference room or an office as you could find it in Manhattan. Their guest wasn’t there yet; Logan was the only one seated at the head of the group of tables.

“Is anyone of you wearing anything made out of metal on them?”

Angel first cast a confused look at their boss, then at the rest of them. Raven just shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, the name gives it away, doesn’t it?” Charles said. “Magneto? I bet a hundred dollars that he doesn't control water.“

“Look at that. He’s drawing conclusions all on his own.“ Logan ignored his glare and addressed them all once more. 

“I don't know the full extent of what he can do. But his foundation is the power to move any kind of magnetic elements. Guns, knives, these sort of things. Hell, I bet he could even lift a building if he wanted to.“

Now it was Hank’s turn to stare. 

“So what you're saying is that no traditional weapon is of any use against him? And just in case of us having to attack him for whatever reason, he could just make the forks from our own drawers kill us?“

“That sums it up nicely,“ Logan nodded, causing Angel to roll her eyes.

“Great.“

Raven looked at her reassuringly. “He won't cause any problems. And if he tries, we have Charles.“

“I’m not playing the joker in this game.“

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,“ Hank murmured. “Sorry buddy.“

Charles didn't respond. This was insane. But he needed to trust that Logan knew what he was doing, he reminded himself. 

“What’s taking him so long anyway? Didn't you say noon?“ 

Logan shrugged. “Maybe he doesn't know how to read a watch.“

That made Angel laugh nervously. And it was enough for Charles to roll his eyes and start to concentrate. If Magneto was anywhere near them, he would be the first to know, probably even before Logan could trace his scent. He let his mind wander the nearby streets, looking for the feeling of distress he’d had the night before. If the headache came back, so be it. This kind of uncertainty set him on edge.

_Where are you?_

He looked for anyone that had something connected to the club going on in their head, but the presence of the others so close by made it more difficult to get into one mind long enough to find something. They didn't ask what he was doing when he got up from his chair and went to the back room. 

_Come on now. I need to know how many peaceful minutes I have left._

_Why?_

Charles hissed when a jolt of pain nearly forced him to steady himself on the wall of the room. Finally.

 _Are you him? Are you Magneto?_ He suddenly felt silly. If he just knew the man’s real name, they could maybe all start being a little less afraid of him.

_How are you doing this?_

He took that as a yes and went a little deeper, even though the distance and the fact that he couldn't see him worked against him.

_Maybe I’ll explain once you get here._

_Where? What are you talking about?_

Charles felt the connection grow stronger. He must be getting closer.

 _Logan’s. We’re waiting for you._ He hesitated before going on. _Erik. Is that your name?_

_Stop that. I’m on my way._

Erik. A strange name for someone like him. He couldn't explain why, but it felt as if he’d crossed a line that went further than looking into someone’s head.

_Hurry up then._

He didn't wait for a response and broke the connection. The pain he'd felt before and last night receded to a persistent thrumming in the back of his skull. 

Once he’d joined the others again, he saw that Logan had his head turned towards the door in caution. 

“He’s close.“

Charles bit back a comment.

And soon enough they saw the handle of the front door move before the thing swung open. Magneto - Erik - wasn't touching it. Show-off.

He let his eyes wander over all of them before settling on Charles. One of his eyebrows rose in question and Charles nodded. 

_Don’t do that again._

Charles faked a smile and resumed his place at the tables, shaking his head.

Then Logan cleared his throat. “So. Welcome. Please sit down.“

They could all sense how uncomfortable their boss felt. Charles suspected even the newcomer noticed the tension in the room.

Erik did as he was asked, taking his hat off in the process. 

“Thank you, Logan, for this opportunity. You can rest assured that I will pay you well and stay discreet about this place. You can trust me.“

Charles grinned with no trace of real amusement on his face, which earned him a kick under the table from Raven.

“I take your word for that,“ Logan said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll have to discuss a few details later in private. I just called you here today to meet the others. I don't want to exclude them when it comes to something like this. Like you.“

Erik nodded. “I understand your intentions. I wouldn't have done it differently.“

For some reason Charles didn't believe him. 

“You’ve already met Hank, our barkeeper. These are Raven and Angel, our waitresses.“

They forced two overly polite smiles and got a nod in return.

“And this is Charles. You saw him yesterday, he’s our very own musician and one of the reasons this club runs so well.“

Erik didn't offer him a smile or even a nod, just pinned him down with steel blue eyes. If he expected Charles to look away first he was in for a surprise. After a second or two more he laughed quietly and turned back to Logan. Charles felt Angel and Raven stare at him but chose to ignore them. 

“You will respect them at all times. Remember that I’m still in charge here. If you bring us trouble you’ll have to deal with the consequences yourself. And don't even try to bribe one of us into anything. No one here will join your little crew or anything like that. Is that clear?“

“Of course.“

But Charles wasn't so sure about that. Had it been a mistake to use his powers on Erik? A premature decision? He looked away when he felt those cold eyes on him again. 

“Splendid. Then we’ll get along just fine.“ Logan laughed, but it sounded hollow. “You can follow me now, I’ll show you the rest of this place. All of you can go back home. See you later today.“

Angel was the first one at the door, closely followed by Hank and finally Raven. Charles looked at her briefly. _I’ll catch up later. There’s just something I need to settle._ She nodded and followed the other two out the door. 

When he turned back around he saw Erik was looking at him curiously. Charles felt his cheeks heat up. 

“I’ll be there in a moment, Logan.“ 

Then he took a step towards Charles. Logan shrugged and disappeared into his office. 

“What is it, Mozart?“

Charles tried to ignore the remark and the vicious grin Erik was flashing as best as he could.

“You think you’re a real joker, don’t you? Think you can just come here and claim the place for yourself? But let me tell you something, my friend,“ he lowered his voice and tapped his finger onto Erik’s chest.

“One wrong move and you’ll throw me out?“ Erik suggested, that stupid grin still plastered on his lips. 

“Almost. You step out of line and I will get inside your head and stay there for as long as it takes. Trust me.“

As soon as the words had left his mouth he wondered where they’d come from. He’d never been in such a mindset before and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. But there was no going back now. 

The grin faltered and left Erik’s eyes cold again. 

“I don’t trust anybody. Especially not you, _my friend_.“ He uttered the last two words mockingly. 

Charles stepped away from him and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Fair enough.“ He looked around the club once more before reaching behind him to grab the door handle. He was half expecting to hear it open without him touching it but nothing happened. 

Erik didn't say another word, just kept his eyes on him until the door closed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. A few words: first of all, I don't know if I can keep up this an-update-every-two-weeks for the next month or so, because uni is getting stressful now. But I'll do my best! All your nice comments and your kudos mean the world to me, and motivate me more than I ever thought they would, seriously.  
> Also, on a lighter note: I've finally found THE PERFECT song to accompany this story. It's Lykke Li's "No Rest For The Wicked", and you can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hh-0y8Qe0Sw). I love this song so much, even though I only discovered it a few days ago. And no worries, the "I let my true love die" line isn't a prediction for the end of this fic!
> 
> Thank you all again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Want to yell with me about all things Cherik/X-Men related, or about anything else really? [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kitkataddicted) & [My twitter](https://twitter.com/SveaShan)


	5. Erik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again beta'd by [Bianca](https://twitter.com/biancablizz), thank you!

Erik didn't have a lot of expectations as to how the meeting with everyone at Logan's club would go, but he certainly wouldn't have guessed that the first one he’d communicate with was a telepath. This was the first time he had encountered one and he would be more than glad if it remained the last as well. Having Charles inside his head had felt wrong - it set him on edge, especially the fact that he was unable to predict what the other one could do to him once he had access to his thoughts. 

He tried to push the conversations he’d had with Charles - both the mental and the verbal one - out of his mind when he met with Logan in his office. They walked around the whole club after a brief chat about general conduct in this place which left Erik feeling as if he was being introduced to a new job as a housekeeper. 

“So, I hope you started off well with the others?” Logan asked when they ended the tour in the main room. They sat down at the same table where they’d talked only an hour before. If the man’s remark was about Charles in particular he hid it well. 

“Of course,” Erik replied and forced a smile onto his face. “I’m confident that we’ll have no trouble here.”

Logan glanced at him with more doubt in his eyes than Erik wanted to see. He guessed it would take time to make them see him as anything else than a gangster - which he technically was. But still. It didn’t really matter for now anyway. He didn’t know for how long he would have to associate with these people, and if they still didn’t trust him at the end of it all, well then so be it. His eyes flicked to the piano for only a second until they fixated on the man in front of him again.

“I will have some of my people come over here to move all the necessary things in soon. Next week we should be able to start properly.”

“We?”

Erik cleared his throat. “You understand that I have to bring a few of my organisation with me? It’s a lot of paperwork.” He tried to laugh but the sound got stuck somewhere in his throat.

“Sure. Paperwork. Whatever you’re saying kid.” Logan offered him a humorless grin, got up and walked towards the bar. “Look, I need to get everything ready for later, would you mind coming back another time if you have any more questions?”

After a look at his pocket watch Erik was sure the man was just trying to get rid of him. It wasn’t even two o’clock yet but he rose from his seat anyway. 

“I’ll see if I drop by again tonight. Last time was more for inspection; maybe we can change that to enjoyment.”

Logan waved one hand at him as he opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. Once he was exposed to fresh air he inhaled deeply. Why had he told Logan about coming back later? He shook his head and walked out of the alley towards the busier streets. 

As he looked at the buildings he passed and the people he avoided running into, he wondered what he should do next. The district was his but he had no clear vision of how things would go from now on exactly. He heard Azazel’s voice in the back of his head telling him that he was screwed if he didn’t ask him for help. Maybe going back to Logan’s was a good first step. Yes, there was nothing wrong with a drink or two tonight. 

He walked back to his main office, even though it took him nearly an hour because he didn’t feel the need to hurry. The relatively good mood he had been holding up for the entire walk evaporated the instant the building came into view. A few of his men were standing in the alley between the house and the one next to it. They flashed him glares when they spotted him, some of them even looked like they were ready to lash out at him but were held back by others.

“What is going on here?“

Nobody dared to answer at first until he shot them a look that sent some of the humans among them deeper into the shadows of the alleyway. 

“It’s Azazel, he’s making a, uh,“ one of the men hesitated a second too long. Erik took a step closer to him, considered raising a hand in warning. “He came back here and started making a scene. Throwing things around, almost smashing some of the windows. He, uh --,“

But Erik had already turned and stormed towards the house, cursing under his breath. This was the last thing he needed - a furious Azazel and a handful of scared human henchmen.

He crossed the foyer which was chaotic to say the least. Broken glass was lying around everywhere as well as papers that looked like they belonged into his office. When he picked one of them up he saw that it was a page torn out from his file about Azazel. 

The staircase looked untouched, which made the state of his office look even worse than it already was. Books scattered across the floor, even more papers than in the foyer next to them. He was surprised to see that his desk was still standing in the same place. 

Next he glanced across the room to where his work on Shaw was hanging. Nothing seemed to be missing, but an addition had been made.

Painted in red color right next to the cut out papers were the words, _Thanks for that, freak._

For a moment he thought it was blood, but it looked too bright and didn't smell metallic at all. 

“Yes, look at that real close.“

Erik spun around only to find himself pinned to the wall, Azazel’s hand pressed to his throat. 

“What happened?“ he managed to choke out, unable to detect where the next object made out of metal was in the room.

Azazel looked at him with so much wrath that Erik wondered why he hadn't snapped his neck already. He kept searching for something to defend himself with, but there was nothing in the room he could use except the safes. How much of a blow could Azazel take?

“Don’t try anything stupid. You know how fast I can disappear from this shithole. By the way,“ he said casually, “I took everything you could use as a weapon out of here.“ 

He loosened his grip a little and took a step back. “How can you live with yourself? Do you want to know what happened? Yeah? I found the guy. Don’t look so surprised, it was easy. Too easy to be specific.“

Erik hissed when Azazel applied more pressure to his throat. 

“So I found Shaw, but he wasn't alone, no. He had a fucking mindbender with him, and believe me, you don't wanna know what that felt like. But that's not it. Did it ever occur to you to tell me about Shaw’s powers?“

This just earned him a glare from Erik and an attempt at answering his question which Azazel ignored.

“Whatever. The point is this; I almost didn't make it out of there alive. And that’s your fault. I’m done with you. I won't risk my life again for you and your stupid revenge plan or what else you need to find Shaw for.“

He let go of him then, leaving Erik gasping for air. 

“Fine,“ he managed to choke, “leave then, I don't care.“

“Right, you’re so good you don't need my help anyway,“ Azazel spat out. “You know, I considered killing you myself but I think Shaw will have much more fun doing so than I would. Maybe I’ll come and watch.“

Before Erik could even think of an answer Azazel had disappeared, leaving nothing but smoke in the place where he had just been standing.

He closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. This didn't have to be the end. Shaw had to be close, close enough for Erik to track him down himself and get him to come to the city. It seemed as if Azazel hadn’t put two and two together; otherwise he would surely have mocked his plan of using Tesla’s power supply to lure Shaw in. If the man had one weakness it was his inability to resist a new source to play around with. 

Now he had to deal with Shaw, Azazel and the new information he had just gotten. 

So Shaw had a telepath. Erik tried calculating when Azazel had found them. It must have been before Erik’s meeting with Logan’s people. Could it be then? 

He blinked, then started laughing at himself. What was he thinking? That kid was a singer in a damn bar, not a secret right hand to that monster. But maybe he knew the other one. There couldn't be many of them, maybe there was some kind of network. A mental one perhaps? This made him laugh even harder.

Another visit to _Logan’s_ tonight was set then, he mused and started bringing his office back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to update, but as I said in the notes last time, uni was making itself known again. But now the semester is over, which means more time to write! I hope you enjoyed this chapter - I know it is kind of a filler, but this is all I could manage at the moment. Also, fun fact: I pictured not Erik but Eric Northman from True Blood most of the time I was writing this because I started rewatching the show to finally finish it. Okay that's it from me, see you soon with a new chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/SveaShan)  
> [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kitkataddicted)


	6. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more beta'd by [Bianca](https://twitter.com/biancablizz), thanks!

“That wasn't too bad after all,“ Raven mused as soon as Charles had caught up with her on their way home. 

“If you’re referring to our new acquaintance I’m not sure if I can agree with you there.“

She made a disapproving noise and looked up at him. 

“Honestly, I think you’re being a tad too judgemental here. I mean of course you have every right to be sceptical about him and his, well, chosen field of work. But now that you’ve met him, wouldn't you say that he doesn't look that dangerous?“

Charles only laughed humorlessly.

“You of all people should know how very deceiving looks can be.“

No reply. A pang of guilt shot through him the next second.

“That was insensitive, I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine.“ She sounded like she was trying hard to believe her own words. 

He stopped her with a hand on her arm and turned her around but she wouldn't meet his eyes. 

“Hey, Raven. I’m really sorry. I don't know why I said that.“

Then he managed to pull her into a hug and rested his chin on top of her head. He heard her sigh deeply and smiled when she finally put her arms around his waist.

“Don’t apologize. I know you didn’t mean it.” After a few moments she kicked his leg playfully and he let her go. “But you should really work on the way he affects you. You’re letting him get to you and it feels weird to see you act like you do right now.”

He considered this for a short while. Was there something drastically different to him that wasn’t there before? Charles honestly doubted that one person was able to bring out a whole new facade of his personality, let alone in that short of a period of time. 

“I think you’re reading too much into this,” he said casually, trying to brush off her words. “Now let’s get home, I need to take a nap before tonight’s shift.”

“Agreed.”

They continued their way to the apartment building which housed Charles’s place. It always greeted them from two blocks away, the red bricks and grey fire stairs shining in the bright midday sun. 

Raven started to walk faster when she spotted the young couple that lived in the apartment just below Charles, standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. They had their child with them, apparently ready to take a walk through the city.

When Raven exchanged a few words with the parents, Charles focused his attention on the little boy’s attempt at making a pigeon come closer by any breadcrumbs necessary. The bird pointedly ignored them as well as the boy himself who then proceeded to throw the crumbs at Charles. 

“I’m afraid we need to get going now,” the woman - Polly - announced then, clearly addressing her son more than Raven or Charles. But the boy showed no interest in abandoning his mission of hitting Charles’ shoes as often as possible. 

His mother walked over to them and picked him up; an action that resulted in a minor fit and the rest of the breadcrumbs’ fast descent towards the sidewalk. 

“So do we actually,“ Raven smiled. “Come on, Charles. I’m hungry!“

They said their goodbyes and the little family began their walk towards the less busier streets of the borough. Before he followed Raven through the front door, Charles let his mind wander back to the boy and then to the little girl he had encountered the other day. He smiled to himself and finally caught up with Raven on their floor.

***

“Do you think education should be accessible to everyone? Regardless of social status, of the color of one’s skin, of everything really?“

Raven looked up from where she was sitting on his couch. Her eyebrows rose and she let one blue finger tap against her leg.

“Why not?“ she mused and cast him a pensive glance. “But you’re not only referring to humans, are you?“

He sighed and pressed a few random keys on his piano. This one wasn’t as fancy as the one at the club but it sufficed for practise. Not that he needed that really, but it was nice to be able to sit down in front of it after a stressful day and just lose himself in the music. 

“I suppose. It’s just that -,“ he searched for the right words to make her see his point. “Every time I see a child like we just did I wonder if they could be like us. They could be raised without ever knowing what they truly are, where they truly belong.“

“They belong with their families, Charles. What are you up to? Gather them all at one place and teach them whatever it is you want to teach them? Like you said, they only _could_ be like us. It’s impossible to know who is and who is not.“

Charles buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply. “I know, I know. But imagine the things we could accomplish: they’d learn to accept themselves and in turn teach society to accept them! And then we could include human children in the lessons. Learning and living side by side.“

The hopeful smile that started spreading all over his face made Raven look away. He knew what she was thinking - in her eyes things weren’t so easy. He didn't often share his thoughts like this with her, or with anyone for that matter. Maybe it was pointless, but he couldn’t help it. Ideas came and went just like that. 

“Charles - please don’t take this the wrong way - but I doubt that the world would be ready for what you have in mind. Imagine what would happen if we stepped out of the shadows all of a sudden. They’d ask why those of us with healing powers never cured their lethal diseases. Why those who are like Logan didn't support a specific country in the war. Hell, they’d probably ask why there was a war in the first place when they find out there are beings among them with far more power than any gun and poisonous gas.“

She met his eyes again and he sensed that the thing she was about to say next wasn’t any more hopeful than what she had just told him.

“Then their questions would turn to accusations. Misunderstandings. Hatred. You know I’m not wrong.“

He nodded. “Of course I know. It was just a thought. I don’t nearly have enough money to even consider opening an entire school.“

They laughed, but both sounded hollow.

“Why don’t you ask your new friend? I’m sure he has enough money to finance your project.“

Raven smirked when Charles looked at her completely bewildered. 

“And if he doesn’t he has to know people who do.“   
She laughed and pointed a finger at him. “You should see your face! Sorry if I insulted you when I called him your friend!“

Her apology was even less genuine than her smile from before, and it caused her to laugh even harder. 

Charles shook his head at her and excused himself - unable to suppress a grin himself when he left the room.

***

It was shortly before the club’s opening hour that they arrived there. Raven had taken an afternoon nap that Charles had trouble waking her from, almost causing them to be late. They greeted the others who were waiting for them and Charles subconsciously looked out for Erik. It was easier to remain calm when he knew where the guy was, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he had gotten shot and saved them from this situation. Who knew what sort of people he associated with.

All of the staff went on with things they had to prepare for the night, but Charles only managed to go through his sheet music when he sensed something, something strong. Somebody close by was in pain. He looked up to see if it was one of them but everyone was busy and didn't pay any attention to him. 

“Charles, are you alright?“ Angel asked with a concerned look. 

He shook his head absentmindedly and walked towards the front door. 

It flew open before he could reach the handle. He heard Logan curse, the man suspecting guests wandering in just a little too early. But it wasn't a guest who came staggering through the door. 

Hank hissed when he spotted Erik who had a hand pressed to his side and an ugly cut on his forehead. Blood stained the front of his shirt and his coat looked crumpled and was covered in dust.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?“

“Angel, don’t you think we should let him in first before asking any questions?“ Raven helped Erik stand up somewhat straight and escorted him towards the rooms in the back. 

“Charles, get the utensils we need from the cupboard under the bar!“

He saw that Erik tried to free himself from Raven but she dragged him further away and began talking to him in a low voice. Charles did as she had told him, his mind reeling when he thought about what had happened. 

What if someone had followed Erik here? Had he started the fight or had it found him?

Later, he reminded himself. Raven was right. The man needed help first. But Charles couldn't help the horrible thoughts from coming to him and he felt miserable when he considered slowing his step or even refraining from helping completely. What was he doing? He remembered Raven’s words from before. He didn't know this man and therefore had no right to judge him the way he did.

When he had collected everything they would need he hurried to meet Raven and Erik in the back room where the staff stored things like bags and coats. Erik was sitting in front of Raven at one of the small tables, his coat discarded on the floor and his shirt hanging open, a fresh one that belonged to Hank already laying on the table. Charles placed the dressing material as well as some fresh water, ammoniac and alcohol next to it and looked at Raven who was busy examining Erik’s ribs.

“It doesn’t feel like one of them is broken. I’m more worried about your head really. Look at my finger and follow it only with your eyes.“

Charles felt useless standing there when she displayed her small but useful medical knowledge. Raven had to care for Charles more in all of their time together than he’d like to admit, and he trusted her judgement more than anything else. He just hoped Erik did too.

“This is probably going to sting a little.“ And soon enough Erik stifled a groan when she patted his wound with a piece of cotton drenched in ammoniac. 

She shot Charles a look and then nodded towards Erik. He understood immediately but acted with hesitation.

_Erik?_

He could feel the resentment and resistance that seemed to build so naturally around the other one’s mind and tried not to feel insulted.

_I’m only trying to help you. Please let me in. This will make it easier for Raven to take care of you._

The walls began to crumble and eventually fell. Charles suspected the pain Erik felt was to blame here.

_Why can’t you talk to me normally? I’m right here in front of you._

_It's more effective this way._ He bit back a “trust me“. 

Finding images that had a calming effect on Erik was hard. He tried generic things like sunsets and the sound of waves on a windy day, but he got no positive response. 

_What are you trying to do exactly?_

_Helping you relax. But you don’t seem like the type of person who does that often enough to immediately connect the idea with an image._

_You’re not making any sense, Charles._

He just smirked instead of replying with anything potentially insulting. 

_Sounds like you’re already doing better._

Still he continued trying. If visuals weren’t enough he could try sounds. He focused on the first piece of music he had planned to play that night. It sounded calming to him and he decided to send it to Erik. One look into Raven’s face and he knew it was working. She smiled and quickly finished her work on his wound. 

_That wasn't too bad now was it?_

_Get out of my head, I’m stitched up and calm all right._

“That should suffice for now but I can't promise anything. If I were you I’d go to a doctor first thing tomorrow morning.“

Erik looked at her in a way Charles couldn't quite decode. A smile appeared on his face and Raven grinned back.

“Thank you Raven. I don’t want to bother you any longer now.“

“I agree. Charles can take care of cleaning everything up.“

Charles wanted to protest but she just blew him a kiss and left them alone.

“You’re a lucky man, Charles, if I may say so.“

Erik watched him take Raven’s empty seat opposite him.

“What do you mean?“ He started collecting all the things she’d used and avoided Erik’s eyes.

“Well, having a fianceé like her; who wouldn’t be happy for you.“

Charles almost burst out laughing but stopped himself just in time.

“Raven and me? Never, my friend. We grew up together, so she’s more like a sister to me than anything else.“

“Oh. I see.“

“Yes.“

The silence that followed was almost painful. Neither of them talked until Charles had put everything on the table back to its original order and Erik had readjusted his clothes. Charles caught his eye when he buttoned up the new shirt.

“What’s wrong?“ He knew Erik tried to hide his pained expression from him but he was too slow.

“Nothing, really.“

“Don’t give me that. Show me your hands.“

Erik held his gaze when he removed his gloves and held his hands out, palms facing the floor. His knuckles were covered with dried blood but Charles could still see the scrapes on them.

“We need to take care of these as well. Why didn't you show Raven?“

He couldn't completely keep the anger out of his voice. 

“I thought it was nothing,“ came a murmured reply. Charles tried hard not to spit an icy remark at him, grabbed a piece of cloth and started cleaning up the blood. Erik’s hand felt cold in his own but he kept working.

“What happened?“

They didn't look at each other but Charles could feel Erik’s reluctance when he finally answered him.

“I had trouble with one of my men. It happens sometimes and usually it’s nothing major, but this time it was different.“

Charles finished bandaging his hand and took the other one into his. 

“Then I had a drink or two. Or maybe more, I don’t know.“ Erik’s voice grew softer and he sounded a lot less like he did earlier that day. No ice to be found here. “I met some people on my way home, and I think I yelled something at them. Anyways, they yelled back and I, well,“ he raised his free hand to point at his forehead. 

“You got drunk and started looking for trouble; I understand.“

Erik rolled his eyes, but there was the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I wasn't looking for anything. I just happened to bump into them on my way here.“

“You were coming here? Drunk?“

Charles looked him in the face now, a new wave of anger threatening to wash over him.

“Nothing would have happened. I’m still able to walk and talk, right?“

“I suppose,“ Charles murmured, now finished with Erik’s other hand. 

They looked at each other again, Erik with an expression of something akin to curiosity and Charles trying to find the horror this man was so infamous for in his eyes. 

“You can let go of my hand now by the way.“

Charles felt his cheeks heat up and he looked away, pretending to be busy with cleaning up the table again. Erik chuckled and didn't even try to hide it.

“Stop laughing at me!“

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the situation as a whole.“

Erik easily dodged a piece of cotton that Charles threw in his direction and put his gloves back on.

“Are you staying for a drink?“

“Looking like this? I don’t think so. Unless,“ he lowered his voice, “that was an invitation and not just a courtesy question.“

Charles considered throwing the glass of water at him next.

“Interpret it any way you want,“ he said, turning away to hide his laughter.

“Splendid. You're paying, right? Like I said, I wanted to come here anyways, so it would be a shame to leave without a drink.“

He heard Erik making his way to the door but no sound of it opening. 

“Charles, listen. Are we on better terms now or do I still have to pass a test to stop you from hating me?“

This was the last thing he had expected to hear from Erik. He turned towards him and was surprised to see the other one fidgeting with his hands.

“I didn't hate you. I was just angry because you were a risk to us. And I suppose you still are.“

“You know that I have no plans against any of you, right? But I’m sorry if I gave you that idea. I guess you’ve heard stories about me.“

Charles wasn't sure what to make of this. There was no way Erik was lying to him now. He sighed and straightened his shoulders.

“And I’m sorry that I treated you the way I did the other day. It was all a little bit too much I suppose, and I wasn't myself.“

Erik held the door open for him and smirked.

“I will fully accept your apology once I have that drink in front of me.“

“That’s fine by me,“ Charles shrugged. “But remember that I need to get to work sooner rather later. One drink and then I’ll be off.“

Feeling considerably better than he had this morning, he led the way back to the club’s main room, a still smiling Erik trailing close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am still here and writing this story! A huge thanks to everyone who keeps up with this, leaves kudos and comments. Writing about these two brings me so much joy, and seeing you guys appreciate what I write is even more amazing. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> By the way, I don't actually know if you should put ammoniac onto a wound; I just picked that up somewhere a long time ago, and research showed nothing too specific about it.
> 
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/SveaShan)   
>  [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kitkataddicted)


	7. Erik

As soon as he sat down opposite Charles at the bar Erik got the feeling that it hadn’t been his best idea to insist on this drink. Half of his body’s left side protested his every move he made on the barstool and he had to stop himself from hissing each time his knuckles brushed the glass or the wooden counter. He was aware that Charles didn’t take his eyes off of him for the entirety of their conversation even when Erik avoided his worried glance every now and then. At least Charles had decided against asking him any more questions about the events that had let to this moment. Erik had felt uneasy confiding in Charles just minutes before - despite that soothing sort of feeling Charles had projected to him which Erik wasn’t even sure the other man had done on purpose.

He tried not to think about the way Charles had looked at him back there, or about the way he was looking at him now. This plan failed spectacularly considering the fact that Charles was seated only about three feet away from him and that Erik was the full center of his attention. He made a joke about the drink he had in front of him in a sad attempt to lighten the mood a little but Charles showed no reaction. A different strategy to get them to talk about something - _anything_ \- that wasn’t Erik was called for then.

“So when you said you’d have to get to work I started wondering, how come you work here anyway?”

Charles raised an eyebrow at him. “Well you need to earn money, right?”

If this was a jab at Erik’s profession he couldn’t tell, and found that he didn’t really care. 

Before he could ask anything more Charles started talking again.

“I’m wondering now if you should be drinking at all,” he mused almost absentmindedly, but his eyes were full of concern again.

“It’s fine, I can handle this,” Erik reassured him, brandishing his glass cautiously. “I won’t start making a scene now after this one drink more.”

Charles immediately looked unconvinced but let it go, resting his chin in his hand with a soft sigh. He didn’t look directly at Erik when he spoke again.

“Something is telling me that you want to ask me something else, Erik. As I said we don’t have that much time so you might as well get it out now.”

“Are you,” Erik was quick to say, gesturing at his forehead.

Charles shook his head and looked at him almost offended. What was the matter with him? Erik tried to recall if he had said something terribly wrong.

“You made it very clear how you felt about that. I’ll ask you before I do it, remember?”

His answer only added to Erik’s embarrassment.

“Of course. Forgive me.”

Another sigh. The sound suddenly had Erik’s thoughts spinning into a direction he was very glad Charles wasn’t following. He quickly downed half of his drink in one gulp and managed to fake a cough that he hoped looked like it could be responsible for his sudden blush.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he managed to choke out out between more coughs. He only dared looking back at Charles when he thought he had put on a somewhat believable performance but regretted doing so immediately. That smirk was back on Charles’ face, the one Erik was fairly sure would soon be followed by his almost boyish laugh.

Oh.

“Are you going to ask me that question now or what?”

Erik shook his head at himself, then nodded and started laughing himself. 

“I know it sounds odd but don’t judge me just yet.” He waited until Charles, still grinning, nodded for him to continue. 

He decided that it was probably best if he just said it to get it over with.

“Do you know if there are other people like you around here? Other telepaths?” he clarified when Charles furrowed his brow. 

“I’m sure I could find that out if they use their powers in close proximity, but otherwise, no, I don’t think I’ve ever come across another one. At least not one that I’m aware of. But you never know.”

“Ah. See, I told you it was stupid.”

Charles kicked his leg ever so lightly and Erik responded with the most exaggerated villainous glare he could muster. It worked - Charles laughed again.

“Anything else before I really need to get to work?” he asked with a sideways glance at the slowly filling room. 

“Actually I still want to know how you ended up here. As a singer I mean.”

They both took a sip from their drinks before Charles got up from his barstool.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure I can follow.”

“I meant that we should perhaps talk about it some other time. Tomorrow perhaps? You could come here early, maybe unharmed this time?”

Erik raised an eyebrow at him but was quick to register the sarcasm in Charles’ voice. Then he shrugged in an attempt to stop himself from seeming too enthusiastic about this. 

“Sounds good to me,” he said as casually as he could and he was glad that Charles had already turned his back to him and was walking towards the piano in the back of the room. He hadn’t even really waited for Erik’s reply, a fact that amused Erik more than it probably should.

He called for Hank to exchange his empty glass for one that contained water, Charles’ words about him not being in the right condition to drink coming back to him. 

“Good thing to see that you and Charles get along after all,” Hank remarked, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a friendly yet somewhat cautious look on his face.

“Yes, I agree. We just started off on the wrong terms is all.”

The bartender handed him his order and said pensively, “The way you looked at each other at first I thought you were going to rip the other’s throat out if you were left alone in the same room together for too long. Glad that didn’t happen.” He chuckled, but the sound was too high pitched to be genuine.

Erik just nodded and found that he didn’t know if he wanted this conversation to go on. So instead of turning back to Hank he started looking around the room. There were Raven and Angel chatting with a handful of guests seated close to the piano, their faces lit rather dubiously by the candle in the middle of the table. Logan, he noticed with some amusement, was glancing suspiciously between Erik and Charles but was quick to avert his gaze and busy himself with something else when he caught Erik’s eye. 

The next half hour or so he spent with watching the club come to life slowly but surely. It wasn’t like he had never been to a place like this, but the whole process of people coming in and the staff interacting with them somehow felt different and new to him. For a second he wondered if he should be looking out for people he knew but a sudden wave of almost giddy carelessness overcame him right then. Maybe Charles had been right and he’d had one drink too many.

“And you’re not going to believe what happened next!” a woman at one of the tables suddenly cried. “She just ran off with his sister! It’s true Janet, quit laughing at me!”

This kind of a lively stream of conversations and laughter went on until the guests, Erik included, all turned their attention towards Charles in a peculiar simultaneous way. Erik’ immediate reaction was that Charles must have used a little help from his powers because it just seemed highly unlikely that his charisma was that powerful. But who was he to judge that? Hank may be right that they were on better terms now than they had been just hours before, but there was still too much Erik didn’t understand about Charles. 

One thing he fully understood though was why everyone was so completely mesmerized by him. The moment he started playing the first notes of a song that Erik thought he recognized the room fell dead silent. People out down their drinks and some even seemed to forget about the cigarettes still hanging from their lips. The piece was slow at first and it sounded as if Charles was drawing the beginning out to ensure that he had all heads turned to him. His voice was still a little rasp when he started singing but that did no harm to how nice it sounded. 

_“Turned-up nose, turned-down hose,”_ he sang, casting a quick glance at one of the women sitting closest to him, _“Flapper? Yes sir, one of those! Has anybody seen my gal?”_

The girls giggled and pointed fingers at the men sitting with them at their tables, some of whom pretended to look shocked.

Charles clearly enjoyed this little act and continued to address the women in what could only be described as coquetting until he reached the end of the song, finishing it with a quick succession of piano notes. There was an instant response of thundering applause, Erik and Hank joining in with the rest of the crowd. When it had ebbed away the guests returned to their drinks and started chatting again, yet also managed to keep an eye on the piano and acknowledge the music as part of the background noise in the room. 

It went on like this for the next few songs, all light-hearted pieces full of lyrics talking about the dazzling city of New York or the struggles of a lady who'd lost her puppy. Erik laughed and clapped in accord with the other guests, always keeping his gaze fixed on Charles. This resulted in him noticing the slight change of his demeanour when he launched into a slower, more thoughtful sounding song. Maybe it was just Charles’ interpretation of it but the way he sang it it felt melancholy and almost sad. 

_“Who’s that coming down the street? Who’s that looking so petite? Who’s that coming down to meet me here?_

Erik felt suddenly very aware of the fact that he was seated in a way that he was almost in Charles’ direct line of sight. The other needed only to turn his head slightly to the right, and soon enough he did. The smug look had vanished from his eyes when Charles found Erik’s gaze and held it with an intensity Erik had not expected.

_“Who’s that you know who I mean, sweetest who you’ve ever seen, I could tell him miles away from here.”_

The pronoun he used didn’t sound like a slip-up. It was deliberate. Erik was unable to relax until finally, after what felt like hours, Charles looked away and continued the song with his face turned towards the piano. He realized that he didn’t comprehend the rest of the lyrics and was slightly startled when the applause rose once again. Still, he didn’t miss Charles winking at him for a split second before beaming at his audience. It was as if looking through a veil that he saw Hank carrying a glass of water up to Charles and he almost missed someone sitting down at the bar next to him.

“Quite something, ain’t he?”

Erik only nodded, didn’t even turn towards the person that had addressed him. It was rude, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He noticed an odd clicking sound somewhere behind the veil, a sound he was faintly familiar with but fully recognized too late.

“I was wondering, do I know you? Yes, you seem like a fellow I might have met once. Funny who you run into in places like these.”

The way in which he put emphasis on the last word made Erik turn and take the guy in. A young man was sitting there, barely older than twenty, a messy mop of dark blond hair curling around a face that tried too hard to remain composed. The same thing was true for his voice; it was failing to convey a believable air of casualness. Half hidden behind his open summer coat was a small gun, the barrel pointing in the direction of Erik’s abdomen.

“What do you want?” He quickly shot a glance into Logan’s general direction but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“I was curious what you were up to, hiding away in a shabby bar and making puppy eyes at the singer there.”

Still no sign of Logan. Fortunately none of the other people present had noticed the boy or seemed to be listening in on what they were saying. Erik’s mind was reeling with different ways in which he could take this outside without making a scene. He opted for the persuasion technique.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing what you’re doing. But I’d much rather settle this thing someplace else, don’t you agree?”

The boy smiled grimly, an action that was as fake as the threatening voice he now put on.

“Oh I don’t think so Magneto. You see, I’m here to deliver a message from someone. A word of caution to be specific.”

Erik tensed and calculated the chances of how much damage it would cause if he used his powers to settle this quickly. And how the guests would react. Humans tended to panic before anything else. He’d learned that the hard way.

He nodded at the boy to continue. In the back of his head he noticed that Charles had started playing again. That meant that Hank must be close by again. He had to act now.

“Remember your friend Azazel or whatever his name is? I bet you do. Now, you know how he came to visit your other friend?”

No.

“Ah, that’s it! He told me you would have that exact look on your face. But don’t worry, he’s not coming to get you. He just wants me to tell you that he -”

Erik didn’t let him finish. In one quick motion he had twisted the boy’s hand holding the gun upwards so that it was now aiming at himself but remained mostly hidden inside the fabric of the coat. The next second he shouted something along the lines of “How dare you insult her like that!” to make the blow he aimed at the other one’s temple more believable. The guy slacked down instantly, and a few people close by gasped and started whispering to each other when Erik caught him before he hit the wooden floor and started dragging him towards the door.

“What are you doing?” Hank hissed while Logan was trying to distract the guests. The piano was suddenly silent again.

“Help me get him out of here, quick,” was Erik’s muttered response. But before Hank could leave his post behind the bar Charles appeared at his side and grabbed the boy under his arms.

“Come on, hurry up,” he urged Erik while still managing to shoot apologetic looks towards the people surrounding them on their way to the front door. Erik quickly checked if the gun was still in the guy’s hand; it was, and he and Charles hurried to carry him out onto the deserted street. 

The air was slightly chilly around them, unusual for this time of the year, but the weather wasn’t Erik’s concern right now.

“Erik, please tell me that you had a thousand bloody good reasons to do what you just did,” Charles said, his blue eyes full of barely hidden anger. Great, they seemed to be back where they’d started. 

Realizing that lying would have only made things worse he said, “Well, not that many I’m afraid. Just one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun chapter to write! I hope you enjoyed it as well! If anyone's interested, here is a link to [Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqYJjA4aYXM), the song Charles sings for the girls. And this is the one he sings for Erik, [Yes Sir, That's My Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gh1eGgFTLx4). 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and sticking around for this story!
> 
>  
> 
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/SveaShan)  
> [My tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kitkataddicted)


End file.
